


Tongue and Groove

by annejumps



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom!Eames, Community: kink_bingo, First Time, M/M, Tongue Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s only in dreams with you, you know,” Eames said, and watched Arthur’s face go red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tongue and Groove

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) Round 6 for the square _piercings/needleplay_. Beta'd by [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/pseuds/anatsuno).

Jana, the extractor, cued him with a raised brow, and Eames spoke for the first time in the dream, sensing Arthur at his six in case something went wrong. “I’m afraid we’re--” and there was an odd knocking of something metal against his teeth. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to take that with us, Mr. Harris,” he said, speaking carefully, trying to keep the clacking to a minimum. 

“The hell was that,” Arthur said to him, low, frown creasing his brow as they followed the mark down the sidewalk, with him carrying the desired briefcase. Arthur had been brought on the job late and it had made him a bit out of sorts, seemingly.

“Damned if I know,” Eames said, absurdly trying to look at his own tongue.

“Well, cut it out. If--” Arthur paused to look at Eames’ tongue as well. “Shit.”

“What?”

As the others followed Mr. Harris into a hotel and to a conference room as planned, Arthur steered him toward the reflective surface of a building close by. Eames stuck out his tongue and looked at it. “I was afraid of that,” he sighed. He turned back to Arthur and couldn’t help noticing his ears were pink. It was a fetching look. Without a word, Arthur turned to make his way to the building with the rest of the team. Eames followed.

Eames had a barbell in his tongue throughout the dream; if he’d really wanted to, he could have gotten rid of it, but he found himself toying with it, seeing how it felt in his mouth, wondering if it truly felt like it would in real life. He noticed Arthur kept cutting looks at him, presumably ones of disapproval, as it was probably apparent that Eames was moving his tongue about. But after all, with his role in the job completed no one was paying much attention to him anyway.

He expected to have the same issue on the next job as well; it was with a team he hadn’t worked with before, so he prepared himself for the possibility and wanted to be more discreet this time. Odd things sometimes popped up in dreams and you just had to deal with them.

The piercing made no appearance. He shrugged and forgot about it. The next few jobs didn’t have it either, until he was on another job with Arthur. There it was again, starting with the first trial run. 

Eames had not worked often with Arthur, had barely even spoken with him outside of arguments over procedures. As a point, Arthur was cautious, competent, officious in a way that made Eames’ dick hard (though he had no plans to admit that to anyone), but young as well, occasionally looking like a startled deer with his pretty sloe eyes and ridiculous ears. And there was that sleek hair and those trim, fitted clothes -- 

Eames had to admit he paid a lot of attention to Arthur. It was enjoyable to needle him, to watch him come off all ruffled and stubborn with his brow furrowed, volleying back. He had a loping stride, for all the world as though he were on a catwalk, a perfect arse in close-fitting trousers, and a very distracting bulge as well. 

Eames managed to disguise the fact that he had a piercing whilst dreaming on this job, until Arthur happened to be debriefing him before their kick, and paused to narrow his eyes and stare at Eames’ tongue.

“It’s happened again,” Eames confirmed, agreeably.

“Why?” Arthur asked, ears turning pink once more.

Eames shrugged. “Dunno exactly. These things happen from time to time, you know,” he added, condescendingly. Arthur was relatively new to dreamshare and Eames liked to remind him of the fact. A flash of irritation crossed Arthur’s lovely face.

“Well, don’t let it distract you from the job,” Arthur said, unnecessarily, and stalked off. 

When they woke up, Eames caught Arthur glaring at him but decided that if he wasn’t going to say anything further, he’d just ignore Arthur, wouldn’t he?

Several jobs passed with no piercing incident and no Arthur. Then, there was another job with him, and naturally, Eames had a piercing again. He was beginning to find it strangely comforting, he reflected as he stood waiting on a street corner in the trial run, idly clacking it against his teeth. His responsibilities had been discharged, and there was nothing else to do until they woke up. Arthur came up next to him, observed him for a moment, and muttered “Again?”

“It’s only in dreams with you, you know,” Eames said, and watched Arthur’s face go red. 

“You only have a tongue piercing in dreams where I’m present?” Arthur gritted out, looking exceedingly frustrated.

“Apparently.” For good measure, Eames stuck his tongue out.

Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him into a garage entryway. He pressed Eames back against the wall. “We’ve got time,” he said, free hand rapidly unbuckling his belt and undoing his flies with a nimbleness Eames couldn’t help appreciating.

“Is that right?” he said conversationally, grinning, not making a move.

“Come on, we can both put two and two together,” Arthur said. “Do you need me to spell it out for you?” His eyes were so dark and glittering; Eames was enthralled.

“No, but I’d rather like it if you would.”

“I want you on your knees and sucking me,” Arthur said, and Eames was sinking down amicably already, “with... that piercing,” he finished, a little breathless.

“All right, if you insist,” Eames said, getting Arthur’s trousers and shirttails out of his way, and no, Arthur didn’t wear underpants, just as Eames suspected, and probably didn’t topside as well. He probably didn’t exaggerate the size of his cock in dreams, either (unlike some men Eames could name). He didn’t need to.

He took Arthur in, and was mildly surprised to feel Arthur’s hands cupping his head. “Fuck, fuck,” Arthur muttered, mostly to himself, and that was a bit surprising as well. It was interesting, too, that Arthur would take time out from even a trial run for this. 

Eames drew off slowly, pressing the piercing firmly along the underside of his cock, relishing Arthur’s shudder and the way his fingers curled a bit. He glanced up at Arthur, whose face was of course pink, and took him in again, and really went at it: tongue rubbing the piercing against him, lips tight, plenty of saliva. 

He would have expected Arthur to be the type to hold back: to enjoy himself, but to ultimately be unflappable, composed when all was said and done. And the thing was, he seemed to be trying for that. Trying, and unable to reach it. He was too turned on. That, that made Eames almost stupidly hard. Arthur, trying to control himself and failing. 

He was nearly gripping Eames’ head; he couldn’t keep his hips still, couldn’t stop the gasps and curses and pants he made at everything Eames did. Eames rubbed the piercing all over the head of Arthur’s cock, simultaneously swallowing down the copious leakings of him as best he could (he was drooling a bit), and with an exhalation Arthur blurted out, “Fuck, you don’t even know how often I’ve thought of this.”

Eames hummed in an inquisitive way, leaving Arthur shaking in his Varvatos boots. He sucked at him again, a relentless rhythm, and Arthur, groaning, fucked his mouth and held his head to come down his throat.

Arthur vanished then, first to come awake up top, and no doubt hurrying to hide the wet spot on his trousers. Eames, alone in the garage, quickly undid his own trousers and gave himself a quick wank, which for all its hastiness was very, very good. Perhaps Arthur would do him the courtesy of putting a blanket over him. But then, Eames was one to wear underpants precisely in case this sort of thing happened.

Topside, Arthur looked perfectly composed if a bit flushed, although he had put his jacket back on. Eames, after a glance to ensure his trouser-front told no tales, put on a bland expression during the debriefing. Arthur started gathering his things as the team filed out, and Eames sauntered over to him. 

Arthur glanced up at him. “I owe you,” he muttered, looking away.

“You do,” Eames agreed, hands in his pockets, pleased.

“Let me buy you dinner.” He looked back at Eames now, mouth set grimly in contrast to the spot of color on his cheeks.

“Oh, Arthur,” Eames clucked. Arthur really wasn’t smooth at all, and it was utterly charming. “I’ll happily go to dinner with you, but I’m far more interested in you giving me exactly what you owe me.”

\-------

“So, it took me having a piercing in dreams to finally get you in my bed,” Eames remarked. “Are you bothered that I haven’t got one topside?”

“No,” Arthur muttered. “I... thought about you blowing me before I saw that.”

“Did you?” Eames licked his lips, swirled his wine, and permitted himself a grin.

“It was... really good. With the piercing,” Arthur said.

“Play your cards right and you may discover it to be just as good without, topside,” Eames said, arching a brow.

“Sorry. I was just saying,” Arthur said, hiding a grin as he looked down, then glancing up at Eames through his lashes.

“I didn’t get to kiss you with it in, because you were so terribly impatient,” Eames remarked. “Haven’t gotten to kiss you at all, actually.” 

Arthur raised his finger for the check.

\-------

“So,” Arthur said, taking off his jacket, “how do you want to.....”

Although he wasn’t going to say so, Eames was perfectly happy with any way Arthur wanted to get him off as long as it was Arthur doing it. “Why don’t we see where things take us,” he said instead. 

Things started, as they often did in life, with a kiss. Arthur’s hands were on him, undoing his clothes, under his clothes on his skin, but distractedly, as Eames sucked on his tongue and kissed him deeply, breathing in his sighs. 

As he got Arthur’s kit off, Eames realized he definitely wanted to get his mouth on Arthur, topside. He wasn’t wearing underpants, and he looked just as he had in the dream. What was a bigger turn-on than a man who had no need to exaggerate himself? Arthur did make his clothes neater in dreams, but that was apparently all he did.

“I’d love to suck you,” Eames sighed, “but I’m afraid you still owe me.”

In moments, Arthur had Eames’ cock in his mouth. He seemed to have a fascination with tonguing his foreskin, and had an unerring ability to know when Eames was getting close and to subsequently slow down a great deal and make him wait; he did this until Eames was cursing his name, at which point Arthur magnanimously let him come, neatly swallowing him down.

“I’d like to fuck you,” Arthur remarked some time later, stretched out on Eames’ back, hips shifting demonstratively. Not everyone pegged Eames -- so to speak -- as a bottom, and when they did he liked to reward them. The fact that Arthur had correctly surmised it had Eames doing mental cartwheels.

“Can I suck you for a bit first,” Eames found himself saying, and laughed inwardly at the notion of asking someone if he could suck his cock. First time for everything, he supposed; besides, it was Arthur.

He did suck him for a bit first, and brought him close enough that Arthur had to stop him suddenly, breathing hard. 

“Just as good without, you see,” he pointed out, smug, as Arthur prepped him with long fingers.

“Shut up, Eames,” Arthur said reflexively, distracted. Once he was satisfied that Eames was properly slicked, he put on a condom and pushed in. Arthur fucked him face-to-face, not something Eames always went for but which he was happy to indulge in Arthur, on account of the unparalleled view.

Oh, Arthur was good. He gave it to Eames hard and fast, knowing he could take it, that he wanted to. Casually speaking, what Eames liked about bottoming was the attention and the fact that he had less work to do. That, and being filled up with cock, but perhaps that went without saying. It also happened to give people room to underestimate him, which was often welcome. But it was more than that, not that he would admit to thinking about it much.

It was usually easier to play the tough bloke he appeared to be and give whoever he was with a good fucking, and then go on and be done with it. But every now and then he craved to be indulged. To just be held down and fucked, to feel it.

Eames was never one to associate really good sex with anything more than that, but in Arthur’s case he thought he might have to make an exception. Arthur had a lot of power coiled in those wiry muscles, and he was flexible, and steady. When he found something that made Eames gasp and shiver, he kept at it, ruthless. Eames got a hand between them to stroke himself off, and Arthur kissed him as he came, one of Eames’ secret weaknesses. 

“Your subconscious seduced me in one of the tackiest ways possible,” Arthur said some time later, voice muffled, head pillowed on Eames’ chest. 

“One of them, yes,” Eames agreed. “But it’s not my subconscious’s fault that you’re easy, nor that you have an oral fixation or a thing about piercings.”

“I guess not,” Arthur allowed, with a sigh. “Anyway, someday you’ve gotta suck me off, topside, all the way.”

“Oh, do I?”

“Yeah.” Arthur ran a slow fingertip over Eames’ lower lip. Eames pursed his lips around it.

“I suppose I can do that. I’d like to see you lose your wits like that in real life.” And be the cause of it, he thought.

He woke Arthur with a blowjob, one of the few things he would have bothered getting up early for. The moment Eames felt him jolt awake, wrenching himself from a sinuous half-asleep writhing punctuated by soft moans, he pressed his hands to Arthur’s hips, keeping him from thrusting up too hard. Arthur sat up a bit to watch, groggy but endearingly keen, and left himself to Eames’ tender mercies.

This time, Eames made him come like that, swallowing him down and licking him clean until he shivered and squirmed. 

“Was it everything you dreamed?” he teased, moving up the bed to bridge himself over Arthur and kiss him.

Arthur met his lips with slightly clumsy enthusiasm, one hand drifting down to Eames’ cock to give it a squeeze hello. “All that and more,” he broke to say dryly, voice rough with sleep, eyes bright and fond.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/) and Liz for all your help!


End file.
